


Smash and Grab

by charlotte123456789



Series: Harry Potter One-Shots [38]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Death, Gen, Orders, Smash and Grab, Stealing, Terror, paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29380494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotte123456789/pseuds/charlotte123456789
Summary: It had been a standard smash and grab, 'in and out like the SAS' they all used to say. It was simple, it should have been simple.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Harry Potter One-Shots [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157993
Kudos: 1





	Smash and Grab

I stared out across the lake, calmly watching the ripples in the water. 

It felt serene, as if anything in the world couldn’t dare bother me right now when I felt this at peace.

Yet, I knew it couldn't last. Nothing ever lasts that long.

I had to welcome this feeling whilst it was here, for I knew that as soon as I went back, I would not be able to stop.

For everyone would want to talk to me, to question me on what had happened that night.

For I was the only one who knew all of it — because he was gone.

* * *

It had been a standard smash and grab, ' _in and out like the SAS'_ they all used to say.

It was simple, it _should_ have been simple.

Harry took point as always. Never one to remain in the background, whereas I was happy to go wherever I was needed. Be that at the forefront of the group or the back waiting to provide medical aid upon their return. It hadn't mattered to me, as long as I could help.

This time, I had been required at the front of the group. Directly in the firing line.

It was a role I enjoyed; the first flood of adrenaline in my system, making my heart pound and my mouth go dry as all of my concentration was focused on one specific task.

Just because I had never been picky about what role I received didn't mean I enjoyed them all equally, and being at the forefront of the action was definitely one of my favourites.

The plan had been laid out clearly and we had gone over it so many times, I could recount it in my sleep.

It wasn't difficult, as I said. An _easy_ smash and grab.

We had the property surrounded, mages stationed at each exit just in case things went sideways. _They hadn’t helped in the long run._

Then there were five of us to do the actual smash and grab. Harry, Luna, Ron, Neville and myself. A perfect team, well versed in working with one another. We knew all our strengths _and_ all our weaknesses, so we could plan accordingly.

The _smash_ had gone off without a hitch. We broke through the ground floor window — that our plans had told us was the kitchen. It had been, no issues, all we had to do was get to the third floor and _grab_ it.

The ‘ _it’_ in question this time was a priceless work of art, a portrait from the sixteenth century of the then Hogwarts headteacher _Fytherley Undercliffe._ It had been stolen from the castle during the Death Eaters takeover during the war and had never had a chance to be recovered until now. 

The entry had been easy, the quiet pacing up the stairs had been simple, and the painting had been located all with relative ease.

Then had been the _exit_. 

It had been going so well; the painting was secured, no one else was known to cross our path back, and it should have been an easy escape. 

We had all made our way silently back the way we had come, with Ron and Neville carrying the painting between them as Harry took the lead at the front and Luna and I covered their backs.

It had been going so well.

 _Too_ well in hindsight. But after all, hindsight is 20-20.

We had been walking down the stairs when it had happened. It had been normal, and then it _hadn’t._

The world seemed to have exploded in a split second.

I wasn’t sure even now if I had briefly blacked out, or if the world had just been too bright for me to properly register what had happened.

All I knew was that I had been on the stairs one moment, and the next I had been slammed against the wall and was trying to sit up. 

After I had ensured that I wasn’t hurt, I had then turned to check on my team, only to see them all lying about the room in various states of consciousness.

I had gone to Luna first, only because she was closer. She had been alive and conscious and was able to stand up with my aid.

We had both managed to stumble over to where Ron was lying and checked him over. 

He’d been knocked out during the explosion. I later found out that he’d had three broken ribs, and it was lucky that we had put him under a full body bind to prevent him from moving and puncturing a lung.

Luna and I had then turned to survey the rest of the room, it had appeared in our absence when taking care of Ron, that Harry and Neville had both made it upright and were dusting off the now ruined portrait.

I could see clearly there was no point even taking it back with us. It had had a massive hole torn straight through the middle and the paints had all discoloured with the debris tainting it. Not even a professional restorer would even bother looking twice at it.

I had told them to leave it, to just put it down and abandon it as it wasn’t worth it.

We had _all_ agreed.

We had managed to levitate Ron between the four of us, none of us had wanted to be entirely drained in case there was an unknown attacker lurking within, _even_ if the mages had been supposed to stop any intruders.

It had gone well, there had been no attackers and we all managed to get out relatively unscathed.

Then s _he_ came over.

_Hermione_ was no longer my friend as we previously had been. She had ruined that friendship when she chose politics over family. Chosen _power_ over love. Chosen _influence_ over us. 

_She_ only cared about herself, and a pretty old painting has quite a lot of _sway_ when it’s the only remaining one in existence.

She hadn’t even bothered to look at Ron; she was too busy noticing that we hadn’t been able to get the portrait.

She had shouted and screamed, and then she finally remembered the way to tug at Harry’s heartstrings and she had whispered. _Pleaded._

I had tried to stop him as he had donned his cloak once more and unsheathed his wand. 

I had told him that it wasn’t worth it, that it wasn’t _safe._

But no. _She_ had wanted the painting and Harry was a devout follower and so he would fetch.

He told me that it was _just_ a quick run in and run out. He had told me to stay with Ron, to look after my brother. To stay outside, _safe._ He had told me not to worry that he could go in alone and be out before I knew it. 

He had then gone in, but he hadn’t come back out.

"Don't you worry," were the last words he ever said to me. I still wonder what could have been if I'd followed.


End file.
